


Much Less Picturesque

by nightshiftblues



Series: People Jerking Off to Thoughts of Alexander Hamilton [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Jealousy, M/M, Masturbation, Overhearing Sex, Unrequited Lust, aaron the king of salt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 09:48:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15660744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightshiftblues/pseuds/nightshiftblues
Summary: Aaron knows better than to be around when Alex comes back from the club.





	Much Less Picturesque

Aaron knows better than to be around when Alex comes back from the club. Thankfully it only happens maybe once a month at the most - Alex is too busy between his overinvestment in his studies and his numerous part-time gigs to be out partying all the time. So it’s not a big deal.

Usually there’s an unspoken routine to it. Aaron will be reading in the common room when Alex emerges from his dorm room, donned in a tight pair of ripped skinny jeans and a button-down, or a t-shirt that clings to the lean line of his waist. Sometimes there’s subtle eyeliner that draws attention to his thick eyelashes, or even a choker around his neck if he’s going to _that_ kind of a club.

Aaron will decline an invitation to join with some studying-related excuse, pack his things and find some friend to impose upon for the night. By the time he returns whoever Hamilton dragged back with him will have done the walk of shame - he never lets them stay. Alex will strut around the dorm with a languid, satisfied sort of swing to his hips despite of his hangover and Aaron will pretend he doesn’t notice the bruises on his neck, and sometimes his wrists.

That’s how it usually works out, anyway. Until one morning Aaron closes the door of his room as softly as he can, peels off his clothes and slips into his bed, eager to get a few extra hours of sleep in before his first class. It’s barely 6 am, but he had a fitful night’s sleep on Van Ness’ lumpy couch.

He barely manages to close his eyes before he hears a rustle from the other side of the paper-thin wall, followed by a breathy moan.

Aaron’s eyes snap open, but unadjusted to the dark, they barely make out the outline of his flimsy bookcase. Another moan, even more drawn-out than the last. He knows from the occasional study session that Alexander’s bed is placed against the same wall as his is, interior design at its finest. From the sound of it, he might as well be fucking someone in Aaron’s room.

Aaron groans under his breath and rubs at his heavy eyelids. The audacity of this guy.

Another ragged moan, and alongside of the flush of second-hand embarrassment Aaron feels a jolt of something even deeper, something altogether more shameful. He allows himself a few unsavory thoughts in the dark privacy of his bedroom. Like for example, why is this one person allowed to sleep in Alexander’s bed? What’s so goddamn special about them, that they’re allowed to hold Alex through the night, and touch him and make him moan and whine as the sun creeps into the sky?

He should go for a jog or something. Anything. Except then he would risk running into his housemate’s bedmate once they finally see it fit to leave the premises. And then Aaron would have to see them around campus probably too, and that would just make the whole thing even more awkward.

_“Right there! Oh God, right there, don’t stop…”_

That was Hamilton, barely bothering to keep his voice down. Aaron now knows what Hamilton sounds like in bed, begging and breathless and needy. _Fuck._

 _“Hush, babygirl, gotta be quiet,”_ says a different voice, one that Aaron thankfully doesn’t recognize. A male voice still hoarse with sleep, all languid and _entitled._ Alex gasps loudly and Aaron’s blanket bunches up and wrinkles under his fists. His morning wood is getting harder and harder to ignore. This is the worst day of his life.

It’s like the wall is genuinely made of cardboard. Only hearing the moans and gasps alone would be bad enough, but all the other sex-related sounds carry as well. The rustling bedsheets, the creak of the bed, the sloppy kissing and what Aaron can only imagine is a slow handjob. Jesus Christ, it really is like he’s in the room.

Or like Alexander is in his bed.

The final vestiges of Aaron’s self-control evaporate, along with whatever’s rest of his dignity. His hand slips under the duvet, ducks under the waistband of his boxers before he has the time to overthink it. He bites down onto his lower lip as his fingers wrap around his quickly hardening cock. He gives it a few slow pumps and savors the sweet agony of the touch before starting a quick pace. Normally Aaron likes to take his time, see how long he can draw out the pleasure before he gives in and makes himself come, but usually he’s not jerking off to the sounds of his annoying roommate fucking some stranger next door, so.

Alexander’s bedsprings groan under the weight of whatever maneuver is happening on the other side of the wall. Aaron lets his eyes fall shut and imagines Alex on top of him, dark mischievous eyes gleaming and lips twisting into a knowing smirk, narrow hips rolling in slow, teasing circles. Should he ride Aaron in this fantasy, or just hump against him? The first concept is hotter but requires more suspension of disbelief; Aaron doubts that Hamilton would be patient enough to fetch lube and work himself open first thing in the morning when he just wants to get off with the warm body conveniently close to him. Always so greedy, incapable of taking his time. Aaron sighs under his breath and shakes his head. He’s getting hung up on technicalities. The characterization of the Alexander Hamilton that stars in his guiltiest fantasies will never be completely spot on, seeing that he’s, for one, having sex with Aaron to begin with.

The rustling on the other side of the wall is getting more frantic.

_“Who’s your daddy?”_

_“Fuck off, I’m not saying that.”_

The tip of Aaron’s cock is slick with precum. He swipes a thumb over it, spreads the slickness down his shaft and rocks his hips upwards like he’s thrusting into an eager body on his lap. His breathing’s getting heavier by the second, but he’s not worried. Unlike _some people,_ Aaron can be quiet when he needs to.

Alexander’s moans have a muffled quality to them now, like there’s a hand clasped over his mouth, or maybe his face is showed into a pillow. Aaron rolls onto his stomach as quickly and quietly as he can, thinks of himself pressed along the line of Alexander’s back, hand clasped over his mouth. A few fingers pressed between his lips maybe, that clever tongue working around his knuckles. He could make Alex behave, teach him some patience. He has all the time in the world.

_“Ohh fuck, faster! Ah!”_

The sound of Alexander coming with a row of frantic, breathless _uh’s_ undoes Aaron. He bites into his pillow to muffle the single, ragged moan that tries to escape his throat as he spills into his grip. The force of the orgasm shakes him to his core and leaves him sweaty and heaving. He’ll worry about the implications of how hard this particular setup made him come some other time, or preferably never.

The tension zaps out of Aaron’s body all at once. He rolls onto his back and immediately peels off his disgusting, sticky boxers with a wince.

 _“Hey now, don’t be lazy,”_ says the strange voice on the other side of the wall. More shuffling and wet sounds, choked out little moans. Alex reciprocating the favor with his mouth no doubt.

Satisfied is not the word for how Aaron’s feeling right now, regardless of how hard he just came. He’s wrung out, spent, hollow. There’s no more pleasure in listening to Alexander’s throat sputtering and closing around some random guy’s dick, not even the burning shameful kind. Aaron swallows down the bitter taste in his mouth, still panting, and does what he should have done the from the beginning; digs out his phone and a pair of headphones from the pocket of his discarded jeans. The chill air of the room prickles at his bare skin - Ivy league or not, the college skimps on the heating costs of the dorms whenever they can.

Aaron picks the loudest trap song in his iTunes library and throws the blanket over his head.

Alex honest to God beams at Aaron when he forces himself into the kitchen in search of breakfast and a desperately needed cup of coffee. He’s perched on a countertop with a half-eaten granola bar in his hand.

“Sleep well?”

Alexander’s hair is down, but it’s still not enough to cover the mouth-shaped red mark on his neck. It’s like he deliberately picks out the guys insecure and douchey enough to leave obnoxiously obvious hickeys.

Aaron turns around and resumes his search for coffee grounds. “Just great,” he grunts.

Hamilton’s shoulders pop loudly as he stretches and Aaron cringes at the sound. “Good for you, I slept like shit.”

“Fascinating,” he mumbles under his breath. The coffee maker clatters in his ungraceful grip.

He freezes onto his tracks as Alex hops off the counter, steps into his personal space and proceeds to blow right into his ear. “Smile more, it’s gonna be a beautiful day.”

A casual tap on his shoulder, and Alexander strides out of the room. Aaron only unfreezes when he hears the front door open and close.

He takes a deep breath, grateful for his complexion - it’ll make his blush less apparent if someone walks into the kitchen.

“Like hell it is,” he mutters under his breath and starts to shovel coffee grounds into the filter.

**Author's Note:**

> Changed my mind and made this a series as it is just a clusterfuck of different AUs. Alexander’s thotness transcends space and time.


End file.
